


may your days be merry and bright

by elizaham8957



Series: Twelve Days of Stydia Christmas 2017 [8]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Children, F/M, Family, Fluff, Future, Holidays, No Angst, Post Series, What else is new, just so many children, married scira, married stydia, not a single drop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2019-02-18 07:59:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13095813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elizaham8957/pseuds/elizaham8957
Summary: “I know this was totally not our initial Christmas plan,” Stiles said, eyes locked on hers. “Which, in all honesty, makes perfect sense, because if there is one thing we all collectively suck at, it is plans.” He paused, grinning at Lydia, who was trying not to laugh. “But this is nice. Really nice. Having everyone here for the holiday.”“Yeah, it is,” Lydia agreed, pressing a kiss against his jaw. “I love having the whole pack here. It’s like family.”





	may your days be merry and bright

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry this is late again! I finished writing this about four seconds ago. I had SO MANY ERRANDS TO DO TODAY. Being an adult sucks, am I right?
> 
> Anyways, this is like maybe the fluffiest thing I've ever written? Idk? The ending is so sappy guys. I'm sorry. There was just no other way to end it. (Also, there's a list of all the kids' names at the end if you get super confused while reading this, or if you just like lists, like me.)
> 
> Title is from White Christmas. I'm stilesssolo on tumblr and twitter if you wanna talk! 
> 
> Enjoy!

Stiles couldn’t remember the last time it had snowed this much.

There was at least four inches on the ground right now, and the news was already saying they could expect at least six more inches overnight. The kids were _beside_ themselves with joy, running around their grandparents’ backyard and frolicking through the fresh powder like this was the best thing that had ever happened to them.

Stiles watched them absentmindedly from the window, his phone pressed to his ear, his eyes trained on Nolan. If he knocked Emmy over with a snowball again, Stiles was probably going to have to murder his son.

“Wait, so you’re coming now?” Stiles clarified, and he couldn’t see his wife, but he could tell she was rolling her eyes.

“Yes,” Lydia repeated, her voice half exasperated, half affectionate. “Aren’t you listening to me?”

“I promise I am,” Stiles responded. “I’m just _also_ making sure our son doesn’t knock out Emmy with a snowball, now that he’s a little league pro.”

“This is what I get for letting you name him after a Mets player,” Lydia said, almost laughing. “But, I was saying— the conference I was supposed to be speaking at got cancelled because of the snow. I should be there in about two hours.”

“Okay,” Stiles said, momentarily taking his eyes off the kids. “Be careful driving, alright? The roads are kind of awful.” They’d already been slick when he’d driven down to his dad and Melissa’s house in Beacon Hills this morning, all three kids in tow, the trunk piled high with overnight bags and presents for Christmas morning tomorrow. Lydia was supposed to be showing up in the morning, after her talk at Stanford was done tonight.

“I will be,” she promised, voice soft. “And I’ll call you if I get stuck or anything. Okay?”

“Okay,” Stiles said, just as he heard Emilie’s unmistakable scream echo from the yard. His youngest was _covered_ in snow, her face red, eyes already shining with tears as Felicity comforted her little sister, brushing snow off her shoulders.

“For the love of _god,”_ Stiles muttered, shaking his head at the look on Nolan’s face— it was clear he could tell he was in _big_ trouble. “Nolan just threw a snowball at Em,” he told Lydia. “I gotta go.”

“Once you calm her down, tell Nolan that if he does that again, there will be _no_ Christmas presents for him tomorrow,” she responded, voice sharp.

“Does that mean I can have his Lego Death Star set?” Stiles asked, and Lydia laughed at him, knowing he was only half joking. “I’ll see you soon. Love you,” he told her, moving towards the back door of his parents’ house.

“Love you too,” she said, hanging up the phone. Stiles tugged the door open, revealing Felicity and Emilie, the older girl with her arms wrapped around her little sister’s shoulder.

“Come here, Em,” Stiles said, opening his arms, his little girl tumbling into them, already sobbing. Nolan peeked out from behind Felicity (which didn’t really work anymore, because he was almost as tall as his older sister), his expression sheepish.

“Nolan,” Stiles said, sighing, fixing him with an exasperated look. He was a sweet kid, and Stiles loved him more than anything, but— sometimes he really did think his son was his karmic payback for all the hell he had put his dad through when he was little.

“I’m sorry,” Nolan said, pulling a face.

“Hey, don’t apologize to me, apologize to your sister,” Stiles told him, arms still tight around Emilie.

“I’m sorry, Emmy,” Nolan said, shifting back and forth on his feet. Stiles pulled back from his daughter, wiping the tear tracks underneath her eyes away with his thumbs.

“It’s okay,” Emilie said, voice still a little shaky. Stiles smiled at her softly, swooping in to kiss the tip of her nose quick.

“No more snowball fights, okay guys?” Stiles said. All three of his children nodded fervidly, Emmy’s tears starting to subside. “Good news, though,” Stiles said, arms still around Emilie. “Mom’s talk got cancelled. So she’s gonna be here tonight now, instead of tomorrow morning.”

“Really?” Emmy asked, a little smile creeping onto her face.

“Yeah,” Stiles said, grinning back at her. “You wanna go tell Grandma?”

“Yes!” Emmy said, wiggling out of Stiles’s arms and racing down the hallway towards the living room.

“Em, wait, sweetie,” Stiles called. “Don’t go running through the house with your snow boots on.” He turned back to his other two, pointing a finger. “Leave your boots and coats and everything even _remotely_ wet here.”

Felicity nodded, already shrugging out of her coat, but Nolan still looked uneasy, eyes fixed on his dad. “I’m really sorry, Dad,” he said, his expression still guilty. “I really didn’t mean to hit Em.”

“I know, bud,” Stiles said, ruffling Nolan’s hair. “It’s alright. I think Santa will still come.”

The three of them followed Emilie down the hall, finding her curled up on the couch between Melissa and the Sheriff, her snow boots by the front door. “I told them Mommy’s coming early,” she said, her head dropping onto Stiles’s dad’s shoulder.

“She should be here in a few hours,” Stiles said. “Her conference got cancelled because of the snow.”

“I still don’t understand why she had to give a talk on Christmas eve,” Melissa said, shaking her head. Stiles shrugged.

“That’s what she gets for winning the Fields Medal,” he said. His phone vibrated again in his pocket, and Stiles tugged it out, worried Lydia had already encountered road problems. It wasn’t his wife, though— Scott’s contact photo filled the screen, and Stiles’s brow furrowed as he answered the phone.

“Scotty?” Stiles answered, still confused. “Aren’t you supposed to be on a plane right now?”

“Yeah, about that,” Scott said. “Are you at Mom and Dad’s?”

“Yes,” Stiles said, apprehensive. “Why? What’s going on?”

“Our flight to New York got cancelled,” Scott said. “The whole airport is shut down because of the snow. We just called Kira’s parents to tell them we aren’t going to make it.” He paused, and Stiles waited for him to continue. “Do you guys have room for six more at dinner tomorrow?”

Stiles laughed, lowering the phone. “Scott would like to know if he, Kira, and their four children could join us for Christmas tomorrow,” he said to his parents, and Melissa’s smile grew wide.

“I’m gonna take that as a yes,” Stiles told his brother, grinning. “Although I know for a _fact_ there is only one pumpkin pie, and you and your werewolf children are _not_ allowed to steal my dessert from me. I have been looking forward to this for weeks.”

“Kira and I will make something tonight,” Scott said, laughing. “We’ll see you in the morning.”

As soon as Stiles hung up the phone, it rang again. He groaned when he saw the contact photo, rolling his eyes as he answered it.

“What do you want, Isaac?” Stiles said, not bothering to keep the annoyance out of his tone.

“It’s Christmas eve,” Isaac retorted. “Why are you acting like an asshole?”

“I’m always an asshole,” Stiles said, ignoring Emilie’s outraged look that he had sworn. “Seriously. What’s up?”

“The airport is closed,” Isaac said.

“I know,” Stiles replied. “Scott just called. What’s your point?”

“Well, we were supposed to fly out tonight with Chris, to go spend the holiday in France.” Stiles pulled a face. “Would Melissa mind if we came by for dinner at her house tomorrow?”

“Does ‘we’ include your wife and two children?” Stiles asked, already knowing Isaac’s answer.

“No, Stiles, I’m abandoning my two five year olds at Christmas time,” he retorted.

“Ugh. Fine. Hang on.” He lowered the phone again, regarding his dad and Melissa. “Isaac and his spawn would like to join us for Christmas as well. And so would Chris.”

Melissa shrugged. “The more the merrier.”

“I guess you’re invited,” Stiles said into the phone, pulling a face. “Please, in the name of Christmas spirit, do _not_ wear a scarf.”

“I’m definitely going to wear a scarf now,” Isaac said, voice gleeful. “See you tomorrow. Tell Melissa and your dad thank you.”

“Yep,” Stiles agreed, hanging up the phone. Melissa stood up from the couch, giving her husband a look.

“Well, now that we’re having _eleven_ extra people here tomorrow, I have to go food shopping again,” she said, before fixing Stiles with a look. “Stiles, can you go put the leaves in the dining room table?”

“Sure thing,” he said. “Fel, Nolan, you wanna help me carry things?”

“Not really,” Felicity said, pulling those puppy dog eyes that melted his heart a little bit.

“Yep, too bad,” Stiles said. “Grandma’s orders. Come on.”

***

Stiles woke up to the sound of approaching footsteps.

Blearily, he glanced at the clock, closing his eyes when he saw it still read 6:57. He ignored his three approaching children, instead burying his face in Lydia’s hair, arms still wrapped around her. She’d gotten in around eight last night, and they’d spent the rest of Christmas eve curled up on the couch together, watching cheesy Christmas movies with their kids and Stiles’s parents. Her getting there early had been the best Christmas surprise _ever._

“Dad,” Emmy whispered too loudly, clearly leading the pack. Stiles groaned, ignoring them.

 _“Dad,”_ Nolan said, louder. “We can see you’re awake.”

“We said you couldn’t wake us up until seven,” Stiles mumbled, snuggling farther into Lydia’s warmth. She shifted in his arms, her brow furrowing as she woke up slowly. “We have three more minutes.”

“Now you have two,” Felicity insisted, bouncing up and down with excitement.

“What’s going on?” Lydia murmured, pressing her head into Stiles’s neck.

“It’s _Christmas,_ mom,” Emilie insisted, climbing onto the bed, Stiles gasping for air as her knee connected with his stomach.

“Jesus, Em,” Stiles wheezed, sitting up, grabbing her around the waist before she could clamber onto Lydia. Nolan braced both hands on the bed, climbing up after his sister.

“Okay, okay,” Lydia said, sitting up as well, pushing her hair back from her face. “Let’s go open presents.”

All three children squealed, racing out of the room, Emilie practically falling off the bed in her quest to get to the door. Stiles turned to Lydia, meeting her eyes, a little smile tugging at his lips.

“Merry Christmas,” he told her, and she smiled back, leaning in to kiss him quickly.

“Come on,” she whispered, pulling back the quilt. “Let’s go save your poor parents from dealing with our offspring.”

It took a surprisingly short amount of time for the kids to open all the presents, and Stiles made waffles for breakfast afterwards. By the time Scott and Kira arrived with all their children, Lydia and Stiles had _mostly_ cleaned up the living room, and everyone was out of their pajamas, dressed in the nice clothes Lydia had packed.

“Thank you _so_ much for having us,” Kira said to Melissa, giving her a quick hug as she finished ushering her children into the house, Scott’s arms full of presents.

“Anytime, sweetie,” Melissa assured them, just as the doorbell rang again, Isaac, his wife, and their twins entering the house as well, Chris Argent hovering behind them.

The nine children flooded the living room as Scott deposited all the presents under the tree, trying to keep them all at bay. “How were the roads?” Lydia asked Kira, giving her sister-in-law a hug.

“Pretty bad,” Kira said, making a face. “They’re worse farther north, I’ve heard. They got way more snow.” Stiles glanced out the window, the powdery fresh snow still drifting down from the sky. They had to have at least a foot by now.

“Guys, you can open the rest of your presents after dinner,” Scott insisted, ushering the children out of the living room and away from the tree. He paused after the hoarde passed him, pulling his phone out of his pocket, brow furrowing as he stared at the screen.

“Who is it?” Stiles asked, as Scott went to answer the call.

“Hey, Derek,” Scott said, answering both the phone and Stiles’s question. “What’s up?” Scott’s expression grew more perplexed as Derek spoke, until he finally responded, “Yeah, that should be fine,” before hanging up.

“What?” Stiles asked his best friend, his heart rate suddenly speeding up, anxiety flooding his body. “Please tell me there isn’t a supernatural disaster.”

“No,” Scott said, shaking his head, and Stiles exhaled, relieved. “Derek, Braeden, the girls, and Malia were trying to head back up north for Christmas, but the roads are awful. They wanted to know if they could come here instead.”

“And you said yes, of course,” Stiles said, because Scott was _definitely_ not the type to turn away anyone, regardless of the amount of food Melissa and the Sheriff had prepared.

“Yeah, I probably should have asked our parents first,” Scott said, making a face. Stiles just laughed at him.

“Mom?” Scott called, as Stiles followed him into the kitchen. “Uh, I hope it’s okay I did this, but Derek and Braeden and Malia got stuck in Beacon Hills, and wanted to know if they could come over for dinner too.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Melissa said, her expression one that Stiles recognized from countless instances in their childhood. “And you said yes, I’m assuming.”

“Do we have enough food?” Scott asked, flashing an apologetic look at his mother. Melissa just shook her head.

“Well, Mason just called and said he, Corey, Liam, Sarah, and all _their_ kids can’t go visit Mason’s parents because of the roads, so they were wondering if _they_ could come here too.”

“Oh, god,” Lydia said, walking into the kitchen just as Melissa finished her sentence. “So _how_ many people are we having now?”

“We went from seven to _twenty_ seven,” the Sheriff responded, raising his eyebrows. “Hon, do we have enough food for all that?”

“Not to mention all the adolescent _werewolves_ that will be here,” Lydia pointed out. “Between Scott, Derek, Liam, and Isaac’s kids.”

“I don’t care,” Melissa said, throwing her hands up in the air. “If we run out of food we’ll order pizza.”

It became abundantly clear, an hour later, that they would indeed need to order pizza, because while Melissa was a wonder in the kitchen, even she couldn’t produce food from thin air. The children seemed to be thrilled with that— Derek and Braeden’s girls were practically adults at this point, but Liam’s two little ones and Isaac’s twins were beyond ecstatic when their fathers put plates of chicken fingers and cheese pizza in front of them instead of roast beef. Emmy sat with Isaac’s daughter Tess and happily munched on her pizza, but Felicity insisted on eating the _fancy_ food, Ava crammed next to her at the much-too-small dining room table.

They made it through dinner, thanks to the only pizza place still open for delivery in the county, but afterwards everyone was full and happy, the excitement at all being _together_ again palpable. It had been forever since they had really, truly all been in one place at the same time, spouses and children included— probably three years ago, when Liam’s youngest turned one— but it was sort of incredible to have all these people together again, after all this time. Sometimes Stiles thought back to that night in the woods, god knows how many years ago, when he dragged Scott out to see a dead body and unintentionally altered the course of the rest of their lives. But even now, after all the trials and heartbreak they’d had to endure because of Scott becoming a werewolf, he didn’t think he’d trade it for anything in the world. The feeling in this room right now, surrounded by his family, his _pack_ — that was all worth it.

He glanced over at Lydia next to him, her smile soft, her eyes shining, and thought of their life together— everything they’d been through, losing and finding each other again and again— in this moment right now, he knew more than anything that for _this,_ he would do it all again.

Presents after dinner was utter chaos, with fourteen children there, and it took approximately fifteen minutes for the living room to be covered in wrapping paper. Derek dutifully picked it all up, Liam taking the bags of paper out to the recycling bins in the garage before repeating the process again.

“Your parents are _saints,”_ Lydia whispered to Stiles, the two of them squished together on the couch, Lydia practically in his lap. This house was pretty big, but the living room was most _definitely_ not designed to hold thirty people, and the enormous Christmas tree in the corner was not helping.

“Yeah, they are pretty great,” Stiles agreed, eyes fixed on Melissa’s smile, the laugh lines around his dad’s eyes as Emilie stuck a bow on his head. Stiles turned towards his wife, meeting her eyes, and her expression was so gentle, so loving, so warm and private and personal that he couldn’t help wrapping his arms around her, tugging her into his chest.

 _“Stiles,”_ Lydia laughed, but she didn’t fight him; instead, she leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder, her braids tickling his chin. Felicity grinned at them across the room, holding up the kid’s chemistry set that Kira and Scott had gotten for her. Stiles smiled in return, giving his daughter a big thumbs up, before glancing down at Lydia again.

“I know this was totally not our initial Christmas plan,” he said, eyes locked on hers. “Which, in all honesty, makes perfect sense, because if there is one thing we all collectively suck at, it is plans.” He paused, grinning at Lydia, who was trying not to laugh. “But this is nice. Really nice. Having everyone here for the holiday.”

“Yeah, it is,” Lydia agreed, pressing a kiss against his jaw. “I love having the whole pack here. It’s like family.”

 _Family—_ Stiles knew that had been a little scarce for both of them growing up. It had always just been Stiles and his dad after his mom passed, sometimes Scott and Melissa too, and Lydia had spent half her childhood listening to her parents argue. But now, with Lydia, and their kids, and everyone else in this wonderful, crazy pack— Stiles really felt like he had a family again.

Looking down at Lydia again, eyes locked on her soft smile, he knew he wouldn’t give up that feeling for anything in the world.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, just because there are an inordinate amount of children in this fic, here are their names and ages at this time. They're the same kids from the skiing fic, if you read that, but there are MORE kids here because I don't know when to quit
> 
> -Talia Hale (19)  
> -Alex McCall (16)  
> -Laura Hale (16)  
> -Caleb McCall (15)  
> -Andrew Bryant-Hewitt (14)  
> -Felicity Martin-Stilinski (12)  
> -Ava McCall (12)  
> -Nathan McCall (10)  
> -Nolan Martin-Stilinski (10)  
> -Emilie Martin-Stilinski (7)  
> -Tess Dunbar (7)  
> -Anna and Ben Lahey (5)  
> -Will Dunbar (4)


End file.
